


On Fake Proposals and Accidental Gropings: A Hamilton Tale

by im_ridiculous



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 'accidental' groping, F/M, RPF, and yet extremely fluffy, apparently the rpf thing ain't no passing craze, csoi hamilton, f-bombs away, fauxposal, i know i can't believe i'm doing this either, not kidding: fluff, seriously what do y'all put in the water in hamilton?, so much sugar it'll rot your teeth, the fake proposal, the fluffiest, the shape of you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 01:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14557773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_ridiculous/pseuds/im_ridiculous
Summary: "You started it."He is open-mouthed and scandalised. "I’m sorry? How do you figure that?""Well I didn’t feel *myself* up in front of Ontario, our mothers and the CBC, so."*Or: a conversation backstage after Stars on Ice in Hamilton.





	On Fake Proposals and Accidental Gropings: A Hamilton Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Well, would you look at that. Five weeks from 'I am so ashamed I can't believe I'm writing RPF' to 'Everyone else is asleep so let's process my Hamilton CSOI feels with fic writing wheeee!' Sounds legit. Tessa, Scott: please never read this, I am so sorry. To everyone else: Un-beta'd, mistakes all mine, total bullshit as usual.
> 
> This is, in my head, the same Tessa and Scott as in 'The Real Question'... but you don't need to read that to read this, they're otherwise unconnected.

He can't stop laughing. Fucking cackling, actually.

She is a _menace_ and he _loves it_. And her. But she is so fucking _funny_ , is the point.

He barely makes it through the rest of the Q&A, barely makes it off the ice, barely passes through the side-stage blackout into the sterile bright of backstage before the pressure in his lungs erupts in a hoot that echoes off the concrete walls.

"Oh my god! Tessa!" He's doubled over, shoulders heaving.

"What the _fuck_ \-- I cannot _believe_ you -- you _evil_ fucking _genius_ \-- HA!" he gasps between lurching, lung-crushing laughter. His knees give out - he lets them give out - and he pitches forward onto a bench, slumping backwards against the wall, cackling still.

She loves it when she does this to him, he knows she does. She gets such a kick out of making him laugh, and not just making him laugh but surprising him, shocking him, even, so that he loses it altogether in utter delight at the joke and the fact that she made it and made it well.

And sure enough she's just _standing there_ in front of him, observing, and looking absolutely _delighted_ with herself. Wearing that mischievous smile and puffing out soft, smugly satisfied _hmph_ -s when her giggles bubble to the surface. She's holding her hands twisted together in front of her, standing there in her white dress with her perfect hair and her perfect make-up, like butter wouldn't fucking melt.

He takes a deep breath, tries to, anyway, and just shakes his head at her in awe.

"What?" she asks, all innocence except for the glint in her eyes.

He opens his mouth to say she fucking knows fucking what, but then:

"You started it."

He is open-mouthed and scandalised. "I’m sorry? How do you figure that?"

"Well I didn’t feel _myself_ up in front of Ontario, our mothers and the CBC, so." The smug smile stretches and she shrugs.

"That was an _accident_ , Tessa!" And like, it kind of was. Kind of.

"Oh it was an _accident_ , I see. My bad." She's enjoying this way too much. He fucking loves it.

"It was! I was just, y'know, into it. Feeling the music. Giving it 110 per cent. You know you like it when I push it that little bit harder." … Okay, he didn’t mean it like that. … Okay, he _mostly_ didn’t mean it like that.

She quirks an eyebrow. Her damn mouth. He could just--

"'One hundred and ten per cent'."

"I mean--"

"'Feeling _the music_.'"

"Feeling the music."

"Scott Moir do not sit there and tell me that after 21 years,  _today_ is the day you accidentally couldn’t tell my leg from my--"

She breaks off, suddenly remembering where they are and glancing back over her shoulder at the other skaters gathered and joking with each other just out of earshot at the end of the corridor. By the time she looks back down at her skates, she's blushing furiously. He can see it spreading down her neck, down her chest…

"Tessa," he says, feigning hurt, "I think you _know_ I know the difference between your leg and your."

And he just lets the sentence hang there, in the sterile light. He can hear dim laughter coming from the corridor. They could be at the other end of the world for all he cares.

She's standing there in front of him like a fucking angel, with no indication but her smug mouth that she is _fucking_ with him and she is _loving it_ and when she looks back up at him it's the easiest thing in the world to reach forward and grab her hands and yank her towards him.

She steps forward between his knees, shins just short of the bench, and he snakes his hands around her waist, sliding them down to her ass and pulling her closer, humming against her stomach.

She stops laughing.

For a second, he swears she stops breathing altogether.

Ha-fucking-ha and take _that_ , T.

Then her hands are in his hair, fingers tugging gently, then massaging his scalp, then tracing the shell of his ear, and he sighs.

And, ok fine, they’re even.

She cranes forward and kisses the top of his head as he clings to her, and he’s never fucking wanted anyone so much in his life, never felt a more consuming need to protect anyone, never felt so totally and completely grateful and _someone's_ as he does right now.

Fuck. 'Relieved' doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels that they finally worked this out.

He loses track of how long they stay there like that, just breathing each other in, her cheek resting on his head and fingers in his hair, his arms around her, their heartbeats in time.

But when she sighs and starts to pull away, it suddenly occurs to him to check something. Just… just to be clear. 

She smiles down at him when she meets his eyes, soft and a little fuzzy.

"Hey?--"

"Hey." Her smile widens, and his breath catches.

"Hey." He smiles too. "You know, though, that I think… I mean… You know I wasn’t laughing at, like… the concept, though, right? Of getting married."

The smug smile makes a sudden return.

"Yes, Scott. I understood the joke that I was making, yes."

He taps her ass for that. Just a little. He’s got a smug smile too, so.

"Yes, obviously, Tessa,” he echoes her. "I’m just. Y’know. _Communicating_."

She relents a little, then. Leans forward again and whispers, "I know," and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "We'll get round to it sooner or later." Then she steps back, and starts to make her way down the corridor towards the dressing rooms and the laughter of their friends.

He already misses her touch, but thinks he might just enjoy watching her leave for a second.

But then she looks over her shoulder and calls back to him.

"But when I propose for real, you'll know it, Moir. Get ready."

And he leaps up after her as fast as his skate-clad feet will carry him.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. That happened. You can yell at me on twitter where I'm @_im_ridiculous


End file.
